“As an operator?”
“Only after she had to stop working in casting, which is the first job I got her.”
“She got fired?”
Lucy didn’t hesitate to share as soon as they were alone outside. “When Emma first got to town, we introduced her—”
“Who is ‘we’?” Kitty asked. Lucy often alluded to unnamed others in their conversations: They were going to dinner. We were invited to a play. Kitty sometimes felt as though Lucy wanted her to ask who these people were, but she didn’t, assuming, anyway, that she was talking about either her husband or Cora. She only asked then knowing she had the right.
“My friends and I. Emma wants nothing to do with any of us now, even though we introduced her to the head of casting at Fox. Lincoln Harrison was smitten. You know, Emma is very smart, and because she didn’t want to be an actress, it was the perfect match. Lincoln was used to dating women looking for an entry into the business. He took her on trips, treated her like a queen, and then proposed. Shortly after that, Emma met an actor. A handsome Negro actor.” Lucy covered her mouth when referring to his race. “Lincoln caught wind of it and tried to ruin her life.”
“She cheated?”
Lucy threw her hands in the air. “What does it matter? That’s what everyone said.”
This, Kitty saw, explained a lot.
“Ah, so she didn’t tell you any of this either.” Lucy shook her head as if to say it was a shame.
Knowing would have helped Kitty to exhibit more patience with Emma, but her secrecy wasn’t surprising. She’d said it herself: no one wants to talk about the bad things. Maybe Emma had considered Kitty’s arrival to be her new beginning.
“She was lucky not to be blackballed. I called in favors to get her the operator job. It’s your decision, but being Nathan’s assistant is your chance.”
“She’s going to be mad.”
“She’ll get over it. She doesn’t want the job; she wants the man. And she’ll come to that conclusion herself once she sees how much you have to work.”
Lucy sure had an accurate pulse on Emma.
“Besides, she may not even be his type. Do you really want to give your opportunity to her? The interview’s tomorrow,” she said. “It’ll be rude if you don’t go.”
Kitty nodded. “I’ll be there.”
“Good girl.”
“How did you meet Emma?” Kitty asked.
“At a gala. It was like seeing a mouse in the corner, deciding when to dart out for the cheese.”
“Cheese?”
“It’s a saying.”
“I know. But who was the cheese?”
“She was, that night. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I thought she was sweet. I have nothing against her; she’s just—”
“Troubled.” Kitty was relieved to say it, knowing Lucy would understand.
“A person has to be mad to do what we did. To continue to do it. Passing takes a sort of maddening bravery that most people don’t have.”
Kitty hadn’t ever suspected. “We?” She studied Lucy’s face in what illumination the stars and the single light atop stage C provided. “I can usually tell…”
“It’s the blond.” Lucy parted her hair to show Kitty the dark roots sprouting from her pale scalp. She explained that she was Creole, from Baton Rouge. “Negro and French. A little Portuguese.” Lucy’s great-grandparents had been a quarter to a half Negro on both sides. Their mixing with other Negroes in a beige-to-yellow range made generations of offspring with eight variations of White and Negro traits. “They all consider themselves Colored though. They come from slave blood, whether they look White or not.”
That was how Kitty felt. Any feeling of superiority felt disrespectful to her mother.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Kitty whispered, hearing footsteps on the path between the stages.
“I wasn’t hiding it from you. I thought you knew, that Emma told you.”
“She never mentioned you. She doesn’t know we’re friends.”
“Intentional?” Lucy wondered.
“Your name never came up. She never wants to hear about what I do on set.”
“And has no interest in learning.” Lucy waved her hand in a dismissive manner. “More reason we didn’t become better friends. Working here is my life, I’m not ashamed to say.”
Kitty feared her relationship with Emma was also headed downhill. “We used to be close.” Or did they? Kitty didn’t know anything about Emma, not really. She never had. And Emma didn’t know her. She couldn’t owe anything to a stranger.
“People change; that’s life. But being who we are changes you in ways you can’t imagine. Living as two souls within one body is not only exhausting but mind-altering.” Lucy lit her second cigarette. “She loves you though.”
“How do you know?”
“She was always making plans for when Kitty came.”
If their only allegiance was through the mothers they would never see again, Kitty thought, she was in trouble. “She told me I could go home if I wanted.”
“You all are from North Carolina, right?”
“Yes, we lived about two or three hours apart.”
Lucy looked puzzled.
“We’re not really sisters, but we’ve known each other since we were children.”
“Ah. Emma couldn’t wait to tell me her father owned Holden’s; I was wondering why you hadn’t yet.”
“Holden’s?” When Emma said her father owned a store, Kitty couldn’t have imagined she meant the luxury department store. It had been in jeopardy years ago but rebounded. Now Kitty understood how Emma’s multi-unit home had been a gift.
“Don’t be mad at her.” Lucy looked up at the stars. “Sometimes it’s easier to tell secrets to a stranger. Some never tell their story to anyone. It’s safer that way, I guess. That’s why I never push. The less people know, the less they can use.”
Kitty wasn’t worried about that. Being related to the Lakeses hadn’t benefitted her; therefore, it couldn’t benefit anyone else. “I’m thousands of miles from home, from anyone who knows me. Emma’s my only family now.”
“What about your mother?”
“She sent me—doesn’t want me back.”
“What a mother you had. This must be agony for her.”
“For her?” Kitty choked without warning. “I hate her for this.” In her last letter Kitty had told her so. Her mean streak surfaced as it had that day in Charlotte, pushing her mother for a response. So far, nothing.
Lucy embraced her. “Others look down on us for passing, but they don’t know what we’ve had to go through, what it does to you.”
Lucy didn’t ask about her father, and Kitty was grateful for her restraint. She didn’t think she could lie.
“There are too few of us as it is; we have to stick together. So, let’s get you hired.”
Lucy prepped her for her interview, explaining that first and foremost, Nathan needed her to think he was brilliant. “I feel bad for him, honestly—the son of a famous filmmaker, without any imagination whatsoever.”
“Is it bias?”
“I wish.” Lucy explained. “None of his films were accepted for viewing under his alias. Someone at his school leaked his attempts to the press, and Abner had to pay for entry, and decent reviews citing Nathan’s capacity for growth, to save his reputation.”
* * *
Nathan’s door was open when Kitty arrived the next afternoon. “Thanks for coming, Miss Karr.”
He pulled out one of the chairs in front of his desk for her. The sky view from his windows was serene, a far cry from the mess of papers, candy wrappers, and writing utensils on his desk. He had demanded his father’s office, located at the end of a long, tiled hallway in the only two-story building on the lot. Abandoned nails were stuck in bare spots on the walls where art had hung.
“I’ll get around to decorating when I get this place running again,” he said, noticing her looking around. “Would you like a drink?”
“No, thank you.”
He retrieved a glass from the windowsill, filled an inch high with brown liquid. He sat in its place and lit a cigarette. His lips were full and matched in thickness from top to bottom; he was every bit as good-looking as everyone said. He gestured the pack to her. She took one, needing something to do with her hands.